


Scream (Part I)

by WaitingForMy



Series: Imaginary Friend [3]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Creepy, F/M, Pain, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15635862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaitingForMy/pseuds/WaitingForMy
Summary: Haunted by your last encounter with Pennywise, you find yourself on Neibolt Street, where you and your imaginary friend used to play.





	Scream (Part I)

You sat on the floor of your shower for hours, until the scalding water ran ice cold and your chest was sore from sobbing. Your skin was red and raw from repeated scrubbing over the last two days. No matter what you did, you never got clean. Your skin always itched with his touch. You jumped, every time the house settled. You shivered your body into exhaustion. Every shadow set your heart off like a gun. You prayed to every god, begged the universe for forgiveness, screamed and cried to go back and change that night.

He was your friend, your protector, and you had slept with him. That’s what had happened. The alternative – the truth of what he had done to you – was too much to face, let alone begin to understand.

You had your moments, when you convinced yourself you were okay. That was when you managed to feed the cat and water the plants and get the mail. Even then, your eyes were swollen and

( _red_ )

bloodshot, and your back was sore from the tension, and your shoulders slumped from carrying the weight of the memory: The taste of powdered sugar and lemonade and those rides at the circus that spin you so fast your head hurts and you can’t see straight. The taste of your own blood.

The red.

You jerked into a sitting position and turned off the water. The droplets on your skin made you feel so cold, not only on top of your skin, but the kind of inside cold where your heart races and your muscles freeze up and your lungs pull in shallow breaths and shove them out in pieces. It was just water, but what if it was blood? It _had_ been blood, when…

When he…

When _you…_

You shoved the heels of your palms against your eyes and screamed.

Why wasn’t anyone coming to help you? Couldn’t the neighbors hear you screaming? You were crumbling inside, like an ancient tomb in which your childhood was laid to rest, peaceful in its non-disturbance, now collapsing from having been robbed. Why couldn’t anyone hear the pillars cracking?

You screamed and screamed and _screamed,_ until your throat was raw and your voice raspy, and then you screamed his name.

“Pennywise! Pennywise, please! Pennywise!”

Your world shifted.

When you opened your eyes, you were no longer naked in your bathtub. You were sitting on a rotting wooden floor in a white nightgown. Light filtered through dust from a mostly boarded up window. The room was empty except for a broken armchair that had once been forest green, perhaps, but was now faded and grayish. You got to your feet, lightheaded but present.

“Where am I?” you choked out.

“You’ve been here before,” he growled. His voice came from all around you and inside you.

 _When I was six_ , you thought. _We came here to play. We played hide and seek. My parents were looking for me._ “Neibolt Street.”

“Neibolt Street,” he agreed, but this time his voice came from right behind you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling panic rise like vomit in your throat. “Why?” you whimpered.

You felt him move to your side, circling you like prey. “Why what?”

You opened your eyes to meet his. “You raped me.”

That word ( _the alternative – the truth of what he had done to you_ ) seemed to surprise you both, as you felt your heavy heart drop low in your ribcage, and his eyes lit up like fire.

“You know that’s what you did,” your voice cracked, “right?”

“Yes,” he said, but with an airy quality that suggested he hadn’t actually thought about it that way, or thought about it at all. He turned to face you head on and leaned his forehead against the top of your head. You held your breath as he traced his gloves fingertips over your collarbone and his voice slipped into a deep growl. “You used to be so soft. So innocent. But not anymore.” He tilted his head in questioning. “Why?”

“Life,” you breathed. “I grew up.”

Pennywise snatched the fabric around your hips into tight fists and screamed in your face, “You are _mine!_ The world should have known; you have always been mine to destroy.”

Your breath hitched when he pulled your body into his, leaving little rips in your gown from pulling so hard. Your hands landed on his chest and you gazed up into his red eyes, feeling smaller than a speck of dust. “Please-”

“Please,” Pennywise laughed back at you. “Please, please, _please!”_

He shoved you down. There was a loud _crack,_ and pain fired through your wrist, up your arm into your shoulder.

You screamed. “Fu-hu-huck, Pennywise!” Your eyes watered, and you clutched your injured wrist to your chest.

“You were always an _insolent_ child,” he said, pacing in front of you like a caged tiger. “Innocent and insolent, and you were _mine._ ”

You shimmied your way over to the armchair and pulled yourself up, keeping your eyes trained on Pennywise, watching and waiting for any sign he was about to strike. But his movements were slow. Serpentine. He slithered towards you, and you shrank back into the chair, trying against all hope to disappear.

 _He’s going to rape me, again,_ you thought, and panic began to open up a pit in your stomach.

Pennywise knelt before you and grinned knowingly. “No, silly girl,” he said as if he had heard your exact thoughts, voice light and lilting. “You are going to _beg me_ to fuck you, tonight.”

On the side of your uninjured wrist, your fingers dug into the moldy arms of the faded armchair as Pennywise’s hands snaked over your knees. He leaned his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh as he spoke. “Tell me, [YN]: Did you ever think of me?” He nuzzled into the soft, pliant flesh, and you bit your lip to distract from the heat that bloomed wherever his skin made contact with yours. “Did you ever think of your old friend Pennywise, when you were a young woman, learning just what you could do to yourself?” He laid his head comfortably in your lap and glanced up with just his eyes. They were gold, rimmed with red, playful but wild. They met yours with a frightening intensity that made your heart seize in your ribcage. “ _I_ thought of _you._ ” His grip on your thighs tightened. “I used to think of all the ways I could make you scream.”

“Please…” The word fell out of your mouth before you knew what it meant.

“All the ways I could _break_ you,” Pennywise continued as he inched farther up your thighs. Any of the lilting playfulness that usually colored his voice was gone, replaced by a sharp rasp. “All the ways I could claim you. All the ways I could make sure no one else ever laid their _filthy_ hands on you.”

His hands had reached your hips and continued up your sides, taking the hem of your nightgown with them. You noticed for the first time that Pennywise had not afforded you panties as part of your hallucinatory ensemble as the night air brushed against the growing heat at the apex of your thighs, making you shiver with unwanted arousal. “Pennywise–” you breathed desperately, even as your thighs spread just a little bit wider of their own accord.

Pennywise chuckled. “Are you going to scream for me, [YN]? Let them all hear you. Let them all know you belong to Pennywise.”

Any reply you may have had died on your lips when his long tongue lulled out of his mouth. It was...different...than you remembered. Before, you had never noticed anything strange or inhuman about it. Presently, it reminded you of a giraffe’s tongue, like the one you had seen at a zoo years earlier. It was at least twelve inches long – and who knows how much longer it _could_ be? – and an unnatural, deep red color.

Your expression must have resembled a goldfish, with wide eyes and mouth opening and closing, mind torn between “Oh my god, _stop_ ” and that irrational part of you that still loved him. _Wanted_ him. Maybe even needed him, in a way.

In the end, you didn’t try to stop him when he pressed his tongue against you painfully slowly, dripping warm saliva on your sensitive flesh. Your back arched away from the chair as your thighs tensed and warmth flooded your core. Your head fell back and your mouth fell open, but your breath caught in your throat. _Shit._

Pennywise uttered a demented giggle. “Say please, [YN].”

You didn’t even mean to say it, but you did. “Please. Please, oh my God, please. Plea– _fuck!”_

There was a moment of pain when his thick tongue entered you suddenly. Then, mind and body numbing pleasure like you’d never felt before. You groaned in the back of your throat. “Pennywise, yes, oh my god. _Yes._ ”

His tongue writhed like a snake and left no corner of you untouched, unfilled. You wrapped your legs around his shoulders and locked your feet behind his head, and he went even deeper somehow. You clutched your broken wrist to your chest and sobbed, not from any pain but from the beautiful insanity of it all.

His eyes met yours and they were gold, then they turned blue. His voice came from inside your head. “You are beautiful.”

You gasped, unable to say anything, unable even to begin.

He withdrew his tongue, and you collapsed back into the chair, gasping for breath, feeling open and exposed but safe.

 _You’re not safe!_ the logical part of your mind tried desperately to remind you. _You are not safe!_

To hell with safe.

Pennywise climbed his way up your body until you were nose to nose and you could feel the blinding white heat radiating off his physical form. “Beg me,” he commanded. He brushed your hair back out of your face and grinned. “Be a good little girl and beg for your old friend Pennywise.”

You were so far gone. Your body and mind had all gone to hell in a handbasket. Why not? “ _Please_ , Pennywise,” you begged. “I need you. I need you inside of me. God help me. _Please.”_

He let out a shrill giggle, and his voice came from inside your head again. “Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six…” He leaned in to the side. You could feel his steady, slow breath against your ear. “...twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

“Pennywise,” you breathed, turning your head away from him. You let your hands fall back to the arms of the chair. “What are you– _AAAH!!!”_

You screamed in pain when he grabbed your broken wrist, and he giggled again. “...eleven, ten, nine, eight…”

You felt the bottom half of his costume fall away. “...seven, six, five…”

“Please let go,” you squeaked, pain still burning through your wrist.

“...four, three…”

“Pennywise?”

“...two…”

You held your breath.

“...one.”

He spoke into your ear with the voice from his body, “Ready or not, here I come!”


End file.
